


Queen Lucy's Cordial

by Lady Sarai (lady_sarai)



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-20
Updated: 2006-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-05 08:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_sarai/pseuds/Lady%20Sarai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucy was given an extraordinary gift by Father Christmas, but Peter has asked her not to use it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queen Lucy's Cordial

**Author's Note:**

> Set roughly seven years into their rule of Narnia, in the Golden Age.

_"If I had my cordial with me," Queen Lucy was saying, "I could soon mend this. But the High King has so strictly charged me not to carry it commonly to the wars and to keep it only for great extremities!"_

—C. S. Lewis, _The Horse and His Boy_

 

~~*~~

 

When Peter woke up, the first thing he noticed was that while he ached all over, he was relatively—even remarkably—comfortable. After a moment, he realized that this was largely due to having slept in an actual bed—_his_ bed—rather than in what served as a bed while on campaign. It was also likely due to the medical care available at Cair Paravel that simply was not at hand in the Northern Lands.

Peter opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the bright sunlight; it was early morning. He had a vague recollection of fading sunlight glinting off the towers as they approached, but he couldn't recall much after that. Except… Lucy.

Looking around, Peter found his youngest sibling asleep in a chair that she had obviously pulled up beside the bed. He couldn't help but smile fondly, seeing her there. How many times had he sat up or slept at her bedside? Sleeping, his sister looked younger than fifteen.

Peter shifted, reaching for Lucy's hand—the movement sent a wave of pain through his abdomen and he abruptly recalled the blow he had taken to his ribs. The movement—and resulting wince and sharply drawn breath—woke Lucy.

She was on her feet and at his side before he managed to recover his breath. "Peter? Oh, Peter, you're awake!" Lucy touched his face and dropped a kiss on his forehead. "I'm so glad! How do you feel?"

"Better," he said and managed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "It's good to be home."

Lucy's smile seemed to waver just a bit, but she gripped his shoulder and squeezed it. "I'm glad you're back. Can I get you something? Are you hungry?"

Peter started to say that he really wasn't, but Lucy began babbling about the doctor and was heading out the door before he could get a word in. A few minutes later, Lucy returned with not one doctor, but at least three—and Mr. Tumnus, and Oreius, as well as what seemed to Peter to be half of the household staff.

It was all a bit much for him—although he'd only been awake for perhaps half an hour, he was feeling drowsy and sluggish. He only half listened to what everyone was saying, and after a few minutes stopped listening all together. Lucy sat on the bed beside him and touched his hand briefly—after that, he shut his eyes, knowing that she would listen for him.

When finally the doctors noticed that their King was half-asleep, the room emptied. The sudden silence surprised Peter out of his stupor and he opened his eyes to look at his sister. Lucy sat on the edge of his bed, her back straight as a rod and her face turned away from him to gaze out over the balcony to the sea. Peter frowned, noticing the set of her jaw. He reached an arm out to her, saying her name softly so he wouldn't startle her.

She turned, and he was surprised by her watery eyes and fierce frown. "Lu…" he said, gripping her elbow. He didn't know what to say, but it didn't matter because as soon as he spoke, her face crumpled and she half-crawled, half-collapsed onto the bed and curled up against him. He suppressed a wince and managed not to hiss as she fell into his arms and began sobbing against his chest. He _was_ better, but he still ached and sudden movements tended to rob him of breath.

But Peter couldn't particularly care about his healing injuries when his baby sister was crying so. "Oh, Lucy," he sighed, kissing the top of her head. "It's all right. Don't cry, Lu, please."

She shook her head against him. "It's _not_ all right! You could have died; you nearly _did_!"

There was nothing to say to that, so Peter began running a hand through her hair and tightened his arm around her. He sighed. "Oh, Lucy."

After a while, her tears slowed and she took a shaking breath. "I should have been with you."

Peter felt a surge of fear as he recalled the battle and imagined Lucy in the middle of the fray. "No," he said instinctively, then added quietly, "I could never forgive myself if something happened to you."

She sat up and frowned at him, ignoring his suppressed wince at the unexpected movement. "How do you think _I_ feel, Peter, every time you leave? Especially if we both know I could do something to help if something like _this_ happens, but you don't _let_ me?"

Peter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lucy, we've been over this. You can't bring your cordial to every battle we fight. It wouldn't be fair; besides, it would have been gone by now."

"So it's better not to use it at all? At least if it's gone, it will have done some good!"

"Lucy." Peter gave her the best stern look he could manage. "It's already _done_ good, if you'll recall. If you brought it to every battle, you would have to use it on everyone or no one. How would you choose who received it and who didn't? Would it be fair to use it on our side and not the other? Could you really give the cordial to one person and pass over another, simply because they fought for the wrong army?"

Lucy glared at him. "You're not being fair, Peter. What if it were me? Or Ed or Sue? What if you could save us, but you weren't _allowed_?"

Peter rubbed his hand over his face, groaning. "Lucy, can we please argue about this some other time?"

She was silent for a moment before admitting, "I almost got it out the other night. I almost used it for you."

"_Lu_…"

"I know," she snapped. "But I didn't, and you're just _lucky_ you lived without it." There was a tense silence until she said, "I was scared, Peter. You don't know what you looked like—I thought it was too late."

He reached a hand out to her and said softly, "I'm sorry you were frightened, Lucy. You know I'd never intentionally worry you."

Sighing, she lay back down and carefully settled her head against his shoulder, mindful this time of his injuries. "I know." Lucy took his hand in hers. "I _am_ sorry, Peter. I know how you feel about my cordial. But sometimes, I feel like not using it is wasteful."

He was quiet for a long moment before saying, "It _is_ your cordial, Lucy. But there has to be a time and place for you to use it. You can't bring it on every campaign, to every battle. It's too powerful." He hesitated, then added, "Maybe it isn't my place to tell you how you should use it."

Lucy shook her head against his shoulder. "No, Peter. It's all right. You're probably right." She took a deep breath. "It's just that… I don't know what we would do without you. I love you, Peter."

Peter sighed and squeezed her hand. "I love you too, Lucy." He kissed the top of her head. "Forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive."


End file.
